


Retail Therapy

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Batgirl (Comics)
Genre: 5 Things, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Gen, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21616468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: Five things Cass buys with the credit card Bruce gives her.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Alfred Pennyworth, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain
Comments: 49
Kudos: 336





	Retail Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [**this post on tumblr**](https://kurawastaken.tumblr.com/post/183677894180/i-feel-like-cass-realizing-bruce-set-aside-an). Hat tip to lembeau for the link and thanks for looking over the story (♥), and thank you to pearwaldorf and litalex for answering my questions about Cantonese.

**[one.]**

Cass doesn't own many things. She doesn't _need_ many things. What use does a weapon have for toys or pretty dresses?

Babs buys her food and clothes. Cass would wear her uniform all the time, but Babs says that's a bad habit to get into. It takes a long time for Cass to understand why. Bruce gives her weapons and transportation and a place to live when she isn't living with Babs. 

After a few months as Batgirl, Alfred gives her a credit card. It warms her, like hot tea on a cold morning. She presses a kiss to his cheek, not because she wants to buy things with it, but because it means he thinks she's responsible enough to have it, even though she can still barely sign her name to a receipt.

The card stays tucked away in her wallet for a long time. Alfred also gives her paper money. That doesn't require her to write anything, so it's what she uses for everyday things, like buying lunch with Steph or coffee with Tim. 

She's with both of them the first time she uses the card. They're at lunch—a fancy place because it's Tim's birthday and Steph wanted to do something nice.

"I don't actually have any money, though," she whispers to Cass when Tim goes to the restroom. "But it's Tim's birthday so we can't let him pay for it, even though he does."

"Okay. I will take care of it." She reaches for the folder with the bill in it.

"Of course they put it in front of Tim," Steph continues. "Like, of course, the boy is going to pay." Even though Tim usually pays for Steph, Cass has heard this complaint before. "It's not like they know I don't have any money." She frowns, then. "I mean, they can't tell just from looking at me, right?"

"No," Cass says, but of course, she can. No one else, though. Unless there's someone who can read clothing the way she reads body language. Alfred, then, and Bruce. Babs. But not the people here in the restaurant. "You worry too much about appearances." 

Steph snorts but doesn't argue, even though Cass can tell she wants to. She tugs the card out of her wallet—it's stuck in the back pocket and she's never taken it out before. 

"That's a black Amex," Steph says, awe in her voice. 

"I didn't know they came in different colors."

"No, of course you didn't." Steph laughs. She bumps her shoulder into Cass's, and Cass knows she's not trying to be mean. 

The waiter glances at the card when he takes the bill from them and his eyes widen. His posture changes, and Cass isn't sure she likes what it's saying.

"What'd I miss?" Tim asks as he slips back into his seat.

"Happy birthday," Steph replies. "From me and Cass. Well, lunch was from Cass, but I got you this."

Steph hands him a Sundollar gift card, and he laughs. "Thanks, Steph." He turns to Cass. "And thanks for lunch, Cass. You didn't have to."

Cass smiles back. "It's your birthday. I insist." It feels good to buy gifts.

One afternoon a few weeks later, she's sitting in the kitchen having tea and cookies with Alfred as he does paperwork, and he asks about it. "I trust you, Miss Cassandra, but as the card has never been used before, I'd like to make sure you were actually the one who used it."

"Yes," she says. "It was Tim's birthday so I paid for lunch." 

"Ah, of course. Thank you for the clarification."

"Thank you for giving me the card in the first place." She grins, and sees his answering amusement in the crinkles around his eyes and the tiniest curve of his mouth. With anyone else, except maybe Steph, the repeated thank yous could be awkward, but Alfred never makes her feel self-conscious about her manners, or lack of them. He always helps her be better—a better sister, a better daughter, a better _person_.

She gives him a quick, tight hug and then slips away, pleased.

* * *

**[two.]**

"Hello, little brother."

"No." Jason tries to shut the door on her but she pushes her way into his apartment. He lets her.

"I need your help."

He makes a face that is a lie to distract from the interest his shoulders convey. "I'm listening," he says slowly.

"Father's Day—"

Interest is replaced by hurt masquerading as anger. "No. Forget it, I'm not listening."

"Alfred said you would help."

His eyebrow is skeptical but his mouth says he is amused in spite of himself. "Did he now?"

She holds out the bookmark Alfred had given her when she'd asked what to get Bruce for Father's Day. She can see the recognition in Jason's eyes, the shift from resignation to eagerness in the tilt of his chin.

"Let me get my keys."

She lets him win the argument about who's going to drive—it _is_ his bike and he's doing her a favor. Alfred would want her to be gracious.

Twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of a shabby little shop on the outskirts of the Diamond District. The letters on the sign have too many curls for Cass to read them easily, but they match the ones on the bookmark.

A little bell rings as Jason pushes the door open; the shop is dim and smells of dust and old paper. A man who looks as if he is also made of dust and paper greets them cheerfully. "How may I help you today?"

"Her dad collects first editions," Jason says.

"Our dad." He scowls. She ignores that. "We'd like to get him a gift. For Father's Day."

The man's face lights up. "Oh, a collector, is he?"

Cass looks at Jason who nods reluctantly, resignation and something that looks like longing infusing his whole body.

"What did you have in mind?"

Jason turns to her. "Cass? It's your gift."

"Our gift," she says, because Jason might refuse to sign the card, but Bruce will know who helped her, and that will be a second gift. She nudges him gently. "You know."

Jason shrugs but seems pleased that she's trusting his judgement. He turns to the bookseller. "I heard that you recently got some Poe first editions in."

"Ah, yes."

Jason and the bookseller talk for a few more minutes. Cass hears the words—bindings and printing errors and foxed edges—but they mean nothing to her here. She explores the shop, running her fingers along the cracked spines of old paperbacks and the gold letters of leather-bound books. She can read some of it but it gives her a headache so she doesn't try very hard. 

She tunes back in when she hears Jason say the word "murders." Her head snaps up and she returns to his side. He's holding a blood-brown leather book out to her. "Poe's The Murders in the Rue Morgue and other stories," he says. "First edition from 1841."

"A book about murder?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"A story about a detective," Jason replies. "The very first one published." 

"Oh. Yes. Okay." She smiles at the bookseller. "We'll take it." She pulls the credit card out of her pocket and Jason whistles long and low.

"You really are Daddy's girl, aren't you."

"Don't be mean. He loves you."

Jason snorts in disbelief. "I never got a black Amex."

"Different ways of showing it." She hands the credit card to the bookseller, who is practically vibrating with curiosity, and Cass remembers that to the civilian world, Jason is supposed to be dead. The bookseller won't say anything, though. There is too much business to lose if he makes an enemy of Bruce—Alfred recommended him and Jason recognized the shop, so there is probably history between them. And he's a nice man. Cass can tell.

She knows the price is a lot because of how many zeroes there are. Steph would probably say something about it, but Cass is still learning to understand the real meaning of money; it never mattered to her before if she had any or not—she stole what she needed to survive or relied on the kindness of others when it was offered. She waits to see what Jason does—he is like Steph sometimes on this subject—but he must consider the book worth it because he gives her a genuine smile as they leave the shop, the book carefully wrapped up and placed in a fancy little shopping bag.

"Thank you," she says, going up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Lunch?"

He squints up at the sun and then nods his head once. "I could eat. But you're buying, and we're going to Vesuvio's—I'm craving chicken parm."

"Okay," she says, picking the keys from his pocket, "but this time, I'm driving."

* * *

Breakfast on Father's Day is waffles and bacon—Steph came over and took charge, since none of them but Jason knows how to cook, and they wanted to spare Alfred the work. Then it is time to give gifts. 

Bruce's face lights up when Cass hands him the little shopping bag. "Thank you."

"You haven't even opened it yet," Dick points out.

"But I'm sure it will be perfect," Bruce replies. He unwraps the book carefully, and nods once when he sees the cover. "Thank you, Cassandra."

"Hey, that's a joint gift," Jason says. He's leaning in the doorway of the dining room, arms crossed over his chest. He's nervous and trying to hide it.

"I know," Bruce says. "Thank you."

"Told you," Cass signs at him. He rolls his eyes but joins her at the table, bumping her shoulder in gratitude while he fills a plate with waffles.

Bruce's posture eases a little, and Cass knows this was the best present she could have given him.

* * *

**[three.]**

"I am sorry, Miss Cassandra, but Mad Hatter's latest exploits have destroyed Lady Whitby's Tea Shoppe."

Cass nods. "Unfortunate but necessary." That was what Bruce had said when they'd finally handed Mad Hatter over to the GCPD and she'd been sad about the wreckage in the tea shop. "I have an idea."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I will drive."

"Hm. I think not."

She widens her eyes and thrust out her lower lip.

Alfred huffs, both amused and resigned. "I see you've been taking lessons from Master Richard. Very well. But we will take the Volvo."

Cass accepts this. She likes to drive very fast, and the Volvo is very safe.

She does not take Alfred to the Gotham Grand, or to the Carriage House, though she knows he enjoys brunch at both those places. She finds a spot on Canal Street and fits the car into it. She can feel Alfred's tension, and she hopes she's made a good choice.

"We will walk from here."

"I see." 

Cassandra offers her arm and Alfred takes it with a small smile. The narrow, stony streets of Chinatown are colorful and crowded and Cass makes sure to keep Alfred close. 

The Jade Dragon has a big green dragon on its sign, and when Alfred opens the door, Cass can smell delicious food.

The hostess seats them at a small table in the corner of the brightly lit room. The sounds of many languages fill the air, and Cass can pick out Cantonese from her time in Hong Kong.

The waiter brings a pot of steaming tea and Cass pours for both of them. "Dim sum," she says, after they've both taken a sip. "Tea and buns."

"Very good, Miss Cassandra. I leave myself in your capable hands." He unfolds his napkin and lays it in his lap. "I shall enjoy it immensely." 

A woman pushing a cart loaded with dim sum stops at their table, and Cass points to the items she wants. "I ate a lot of dumplings in Hong Kong," she tells Alfred after the woman rolls the cart away to put in their order. "And drank a lot of tea." She smiles. "Almost as good as yours."

He pats her hand and smiles back, pleased.

Alfred doesn't expect Cass to talk much, and Cass appreciates that. He talks a little about his week and updates her on the family: Damian has tried yet again to cancel his violin lessons. Tim is visiting Dick in Bludhaven and trying to get him involved in his youth shelter project. Bruce is thinking of upgrading the pontoons on the Batmobile.

"Pontoons?" she asks. There are still so many words she doesn't know.

Alfred hums thoughtfully. "So it will float in the event it lands in the water."

"Once," she says. "I only did that once." 

"Hmph. Once was more than enough."

Then the food comes and they don't speak much after Cass points to each dish and says, "Char siu bao, pork shu mei, har gow, soup dumplings, and shrimp cheong fun. And egg custard tarts and mango pudding for dessert." It is a long speech, but worth it to share such delicious food with Alfred.

"Bon appetit," Alfred says, picking up his chopsticks.

"食飯囉," she replies with a sly smile and his mustache twitches in amusement. 

When they bring the check, they place it in front of Alfred, but Cass thinks it's because he's older, not because he's a man. Still, annoying. She reaches for it and he gives her a severe look.

"Miss Cassandra—"

"My treat," she says.

"Your company is a treat, there's no need for you to pick up the tab as well."

"爺爺, I insist."

He sits back and smiles. "Well, if you insist."

She tucks the credit card into the folder and grins back, pleased.

"Thank you," he says as they walk back to the car, arm in arm. "I had a lovely time."

She kisses his cheek. "Me, too."

* * *

**[four.]**

Robin stomps through patrol like a storm waiting to break, earning a lecture from Batman when his anger and impatience scare off a witness they were trying to convince to testify. 

Cass texts Dick and doesn't have to wait long for an answer. Usually they converse in emoji—luckily Dick is fluent in it—but this response is only a sad face and three words: _Talia in Gotham_.

Babs has a longer explanation that Cass boils down to this: Talia visited Jason and not Damian, which upset Damian, Bruce, and, once they track him down, Jason, as well. 

"Bruce and Jason are adults," Steph says when Cass asks her what she should do. "Sort of. They can deal—or not deal—with their emotions in their own way, but it's a shitty thing to do to your kid." Her mouth twists and Cass wonders, but doesn't ask. She never asks when she knows Steph is thinking about the baby she gave away. Even if she was good with words, there are no words she could say to help with that.

"So, we help Damian?"

"Dick's probably on top of it," Steph says, leaning back in her desk chair and yawning. She has finals now, on top of patrol and her job at Leslie's clinic. "But you know what we could do?"

"What?"

"Take him to the moon bounce. There's one in the playground in Robinson Park. I took him there once and he loved it. He'll never admit it though." She yawns again, and stretches with it. "Probably try to gut me for telling you."

"Hm."

Cass swings by the park the next night during her patrol, even though it's not on her route for the evening, and finds it's been converted into a hideout for Joker's henchmen. She calls it in and Oracle lets the others know, but she doesn't need help with thugs. They're all tied up by the time Batman and Robin arrive.

"Red Robin confirmed that the Joker is still in Arkham," Batman says. "How did you know they were here?"

"Didn't," she says. "Was keeping an eye on the park and found them here." She knows that Batman can tell she's not being completely honest but she doesn't want to say anything in front of Damian.

"The moon bounce is destroyed," Robin says. He sounds neutral but his body language is conflicted. He cares but doesn't want them to know.

"The Wayne Foundation will replace it," Batman says with a quick glance at Robin. Cass can see his surprise even if Damian can't.

"Very well." Robin tips his head at Cass and then takes off again. 

Batman says, "We'll be down by Dixon Docks. Two-Face allegedly has a shipment of guns coming in tonight. Meet Red Robin in Coventry and swing through the Bowery and Crime Alley. Then you can head home."

She nods and Batman leaves, his cape swirling behind him.

Patrol is quiet after that.

She meets Steph for lunch the next day on campus. Steph looks exhausted but pleased—her finals are almost over and she thinks she did well, but it's taking its toll. 

"Moon bounce is destroyed."

"I heard." 

Cass taps Steph's laptop. "We could find another one."

Steph hums in agreement around her mouthful of cheeseburger. "We could." She wipes her fingers on her napkin and opens up the computer.

There isn't one in Grant Park, and the playground in Sheldon Park is closed for renovations.

"There must be another way," Cass says.

"There are no street fairs scheduled until next month," Steph replies. "And honestly, every street fair in this city is a crapshoot. It's hard to tell which are legit and which are supervillain hunting grounds until the screaming starts."

"Private one?" Cass says.

Steph snaps her fingers and points at Cass—it is a form of approval, Cass has learned. "Good idea." She types quickly. "There are several places that will rent one to you but it's not cheap."

Cass shrugs and hands over the credit card.

* * *

"Miss Cassandra, did you order a," Alfred looks at the paper in his hand, "bouncy castle?"

"For Damian," she says. 

"I see." His raised eyebrow is the only evidence of his annoyance that she didn't warn him. "I will have them set it up on the south lawn."

"Thank you, Alfred." She hugs him and smiles when he hugs her back. "I will go find Damian."

"He's upstairs doing homework," Alfred says. "At least, he should be."

He is. He has his headphones in and Alfred the cat draped over his shoulders, but he is hunched over a workbook filling out math problems. Titus is sleeping at his feet but he jumps up when Cass knocks on the door.

Damian's irritation eases when he sees her. "Yes?"

"Got a present for you."

His eyes light up but he makes a show of being put-upon as he takes out his headphones and puts his book away. "Very well." 

"You don't need shoes," she says when he moves to put his sneakers on.

He gives her a curious look and asks, "What is the occasion?"

"I'm glad you're my little brother." She ruffles his hair and then takes off down the stairs before he can complain. He follows at speed.

They race out to the south lawn where the moon bounce is being inflated by a very loud machine.

Tim is standing with Alfred, looking puzzled. Dick is chatting with the man using the loud machine.

Damian stops short and looks from the moon bounce to Cass and back again.

"I am not a child," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You don't have to be a child to enjoy fun," she says. "But if you don't want to, that's fine. Dick and Tim and I will have fun without you."

"It's my gift. I should get to say who uses it."

The delivery man leaves with Alfred, and Dick says, "Come on, Little D. Share."

"Tt. Fine." He lifts his chin, climbs into the moon bounce, and starts bouncing. "Cain first."

Dick shrugs and offers her a bow. "After you."

Cass grins and climbs in. It _is_ fun. Weird, but fun. Dick joins them and starts doing tricks and flips. Damian copies him, and Tim takes pictures. Cass feels a warm glow, because _she_ did this, and it is good.

* * *

**[five.]**

Cass likes parties. She likes finger food and fizzy drinks and even dressing up in pretty clothes. Cass does not like galas. She does not like rich white people who stare at her with pity, or photographers who take pictures of private moments, or reporters who ask stupid questions.

She doesn't know how to feel when the small New Year's Eve party Steph suggested gets turned into a Wayne Foundation Gala for the Hungry and Homeless. Even Cass can hear the capital letters when the party planner starts talking.

"It will be a black and white ball," she says, "a winter wonderland. Won't that be lovely?"

"Indeed," says Alfred, and the rest of them fall into line.

"It'll be fine," Steph says when they're out shopping for dresses with Babs. "Bruce is paying for my dress, and the food is free too. Usually he makes me patrol on gala nights, but New Year's is always a weird one. I'll be happy to stay inside and drink champagne at midnight instead of being in the sewers and fighting Killer Croc."

"Hn."

Steph laughs. "You sound just like B. You all do."

Cass doesn't think that's a bad thing, but she scowls anyway. Luckily, Babs rolls out of the dressing room then, interrupting the conversation. She's wearing a gown made of black velvet. It has long flowing sleeves and shows off her collar bones and the tops of her breasts. 

"You look great," Steph says. "See, Cass, no one will even be looking at us once Babs shows up."

Babs rolls her eyes. "Your turn, Stephanie."

Steph takes four dresses into the fitting room with her. Cass thinks she looks pretty in all of them, but she refuses the white one: "I'll just end up getting cocktail sauce on it," and the first black one: "I feel like Morticia Addams and not in a good way."

She ends up with a purple dress after all, but it's so dark it looks black unless the light hits it just right. 

"Close enough," Babs says, and no one will argue with her.

Cass has been reluctant—she grabbed the first things she saw on the rack and hates all of them when she tries them on. Too tight, too itchy, too long, too short. Nothing is right. She wishes Alfred would let her wear her black tutu from when she was in the corps for Swan Lake, but he says it's not appropriate.

Alfred wants to have someone come to the house to make a dress for her, but she said no and Bruce took her side. She told Alfred he could just pick something out—when she came to live at the Manor, he bought all her clothes and she likes them well enough. Sometimes she steals her brothers' t-shirts or hoodies, but the dressy clothes in her closet are fine. She doesn't need anything new.

Steph and Babs show her a lot of dresses in a lot of different stores, but she doesn't like any of them.

They are all exhausted, and have been fighting Christmas-shopping crowds all day, when Babs brings them to a small, brightly lit store that has almost nothing in it.

A saleswoman brings them to an uncomfortable white couch and starts showing them dresses. Cass folds her arms and shakes her head at each thing the woman shows them. After a while, Steph gets up and wanders the store on her own.

"What about this one?" she asks, holding out a black dress with gold sparkles on it. 

It looks a little like a ballet costume—many layers of filmy material fluttering down from the waist—and probably won't hobble her in a fight, like Steph's dress will.

"Fine," she says. "I will try it on." She pretends not to notice how the saleswoman slumps in relief.

The dress is—pretty. Cass feels pretty in it, even though it shows off her scars. The top is a V in the front and the back, and there is a band of fabric around the waist, snug but not tight, and when she pirouettes, the skirt flares out like Odile's tutu. She could do fouettés in this dress. 

She steps out of the fitting room and spins once. Steph claps and whistles. 

The saleswoman says, "Beautiful," and not just because she is trying to sell Cass the dress.

Cass looks at Babs. Babs smiles wide. "It's perfect, Cass. If you like it."

"I do," she says, a little surprised. "I really do."

Alfred had put Babs in charge of this shopping trip, but after she changes back into her clothes, Cass reaches into her own pocket. "I want to pay for it," she says when Babs gives her a questioning look. "It's mine."

She buys soft leather slippers to wear with it, and on New Year's Eve, she dances all night, with Bruce, with her brothers, with Steph. 

She is not a weapon anymore. She is a daughter, a sister, a friend. She is a girl and a dancer and a hero. No one can take that from her again.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> A first edition of The Murders in the Rue Morgue and various other stories is listed for $7,500 on abebooks. There was a $40,000 version listed, but I thought that was too much for either Cass or Jason to be comfortable with.
> 
> 食飯囉 - Sik6 faan6 lo4 - let's eat!
> 
> 爺爺 - Je4je2 - (paternal) grandfather

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Retail Therapy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22036330) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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